Go Ask Alice When She's Ten Feet Tall
by Harmonic Friction
Summary: This is Harry Potter. [This] is Harry Potter on drugs. Finished.
1. Go Ask Alice

**_AN: _**Quite possibly the strangest fiction I've ever written. Title and part of the premise inspired by "White Rabbit" by Jefferson Airplane, that one creepy book (_Go Ask Alice)_ and my coming-out-of-the-closet-as-a-Dudley-fan-for-real. Includes an OC; she's mine. If you read, please review.

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_**Go Ask Alice When She's Ten Feet Tall**_

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_In the darkness, _Harry Potter heard a sound from downstairs, the humdrum clack of the front door unlocking and then locking again. Angry as always, he wondered why he was the only one who ever heard his cousin arriving—Dudley was never graceful about coming back stoned from the park and Harry just wanted to go back to _sleep._

One step to toss that undersized blue backpack to the floor and _two _steps to remove whatever enormous hoodie he'd been wearing, Harry could count each move his cousin was making, he knew this midnight drill inside and out.

Blunt in the flower pot, blunt in the _garbage disposal. _

Harry knew the smell of pot, natural and complicated—everything Dudley wasn't--, he'd tried whatever was left over from Dudley's midnight escapades, leaving the idiotic dolt wondering _where his weed was _in the morning, when the sun came up. Birds chirping never mattered when he couldn't find his pot that Harry had so nastily bestowed upon the _toilet _after regarding it as _pointless. _

But _this _time, there were fresh footsteps, and so Harry slipped out of bed, disregarding Hedwig who was rapping at the window, and he looked down from the staircase upon Dudley and what seemed to be a wiry dishrag wearing _bright pink heels._

"_I'm fine!" _whined the dishrag. _"Get off me."_

"_Shut up, you're going to wake 'em."_

"_Said get off!"_

This was a situation Harry wished he had not walked into. However, as soon as he tried to turn away, the little slip of a girl focused on his form, and from the first floor she giggled, almost madly, the effects of alcohol _and _underage drugging taking over her system as she pointed up to the be-speckled wizard.

"Dudley, is that the _freak?" _she wanted to know, quavering.

"I could ask you the same thing, Dudders," Harry said plainly, and against his better judgment, he started down the stairs. "Who's the freak?"

Dudley blinked.

Harry always thought it was amazing to see Dudley on pot—it had no outward effect on him because he was all ready a slow-moving dunce with a bad habit of eating everything that was in the refrigerator in one sitting. It was a keen advantage, Harry supposed, because Petunia and Vernon had no way of finding out the _truth _about Dudley's pastimes.

"_What's the matter?" _inquired Dudley slowly, a small grin forming on his thin lips.

"Nothing's the matter!" Harry snapped impatiently," except for the fact that you've brought back a tramp with you!" He turned his attention to said tramp, was all done up in harsh makeup, and was basically being held in a chokehold by Dudley.

She giggled. "I'm not _a tramp, I'm Sarah." _She waggled her hips, which were being hidden by a pale jean mini.

"Oh, It has a name," Harry said dryly. He was reminded instantly of Pansy Parkinson.

"She's Sarah," affirmed Dudley," and she's my girlfriend, and—"

"Yes?"

Dudley had lost his train of thought, though, and he pounded toward the kitchen with the dishrag in tow.

Harry shook his head. "My cousin with a girlfriend. Well, this is exciting, tremendous news, Big D."

"He really _is _Big D!" Sarah offered, which made Harry feel both amused, frightened, and surprised, because he would have never thought Dudley would have a nickname of multiple meanings. He had to give Dudley's friends credit for being both deep _and _liberal-minded.

Despite his inside instinct to make some quip about the _D _instead standing for _dope _or _doofus_, Harry followed aimlessly. These long summer nights really left him with nothing to do, and he was actually glad for an event that did not remind him of Cedric.

"_Sooooo," _voiced Sarah, as Dudley struggled to make toast," you're the _freak."_

"Wasn't that all ready established?" Harry questioned. "Or did D here forget to grunt in response to your question?"

Sarah threw back her head and laughed, her black hair swishing about her neck. "So is it true you're a real mean thug?" she asked in interest, or as much interest an intoxicated person can offer.

Harry snorted. "Don't want to disappoint you, Sarah, but I don't think I'm your type."

"Well, _duh. _I like big men," she said simply, and simpered, gooey, at Dudley, who by this point had given up on the toaster and was halfway through a loaf of bread.

"Nicely put. Don't think you're my type either."

"What _is_ your type, Saint Brutus?"

At this point, Dudley sniggered darkly. "Little boys whose names he can scream at night."

Sarah giggled raucously. "Really?"

Harry blanched. "You know, I could ruin this lovely moment immediately by informing your dear Mother and Father about your whereabouts, your stashes, _and _your skank, so I would keep my mouth shut, you overgrown pig."

Dudley looked unbothered, but he did stop talking, if only to consume last night's leftovers.

"What's it like?" Sarah asked, gripping the kitchen counter to keep from toppling over.

"What's _what _like?"

She pulled her skirt up higher and crossed her legs. She wasn't pretty at all, that Harry could determine even in the dim light. Leave it to Dudley to prefer a nice body to a nice face. She had a hard, mean look about her, her straight black hair like little daggers at the ends.

"Being hated," she said.

At this, Harry froze. "What?"

Sarah smiled. "Ah, so you _do _know what it's like."

"Yeah, I _do," _Harry shot bitterly. "And it's nothing special, to be known for it!"

"You watch your tone, Potter!" Dudley shouted.

"Saint Brutus and I are _talking!" _Sarah chortled, swinging her hips a bit more. "You don't like it," she stated.

"Well, aren't _you _brilliant!" Harry snapped.

"Fag?" she offered, taking a package out of her purse.

Dudley snatched them away at once. "You can't smoke in here, you cow!"

"_Someone's _coming off their high," observed Harry, still a bit shaken from the dishrag's observations, albeit drunken ones.

Sarah smiled oddly, fortune teller, siren. "You're better than I thought, Saint Brutus. From what I'd heard, I thought you were some insane bastard all locked up your bedroom."

"Nah, that was second year."

"Bloody _pudding," _Dudley declared, enraged.

"Better keep your gob closed, Dudders. You might offer valuable information."

"Go sing for Cedric," the blond boy declared.

"_Fuck _you," Harry snapped.

From upstairs, came Uncle Vernon's unmistakable bellow (Harry could just imagine the man's purple face): **_"WHAT'S ALL THE RACKET, POTTER?"_**

"Shit, see what you've done?" Dudley whispered to both Sarah _and _Harry, snatching the girl once more and taking her back to the front door from whence she came. "You have to _go _now, maybe _tomorrow _night." With that, she was shoved into the flower bed.

"Bye Saint Brutus!"

Harry watched, slightly satisfied.

Dudley turned toward the other boy with hatred in his eyes. "You'll pay for _that_—it's only _every once in a—"_

"'s all right, Big D. Just go sing for Sarah." Harry grinned wryly and headed off to bed.

* * *


	2. The Ones that Mother Gives You

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**TWO: **The Ones that Mother Gives You

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"_Maybe tomorrow night," _Harry voiced to himself the next evening, snickering darkly. Ah, how Dudley's great plans had gone awry, for Aunt Petunia had whisked him off to the seaside for a day of mother and son bonding. The look on Dudders' face had been absolutely pathetic. 

Harry could have _almost _felt sorry for Dudley, if this were some sort of parallel universe, but it was not and so he only felt amusement.

He was happy when his aunt and cousin returned too late for Big D to get stoned, drunk or laid.

Yet, Harry was _still _mystified that Dudley had a girlfriend in the first place, when he, The Boy Who Lived, only had giggling admirers, most of who were in Year One. The world really seemed bleak this summer. _'Maybe she was too drunk to notice who Dudley was,' _Harry thought hopefully,' _and he took her captive and asked her out before she could protest.' _At this bout of wondering, he imagined Hermione huffily telling him off, that 'drunk or not, girls aren't that thick!' This only put him in a bad mood, however, because it reminded him that nobody had been writing this summer. It was really as though he did not exist.

**---**

Harry awoke the next morning with the same feeling of disdain for the world and its creatures. He ignored Vernon's series of militant questions about his doings the day before, since _"I hardly set eyes on you all day long!" _To this, Harry could only ask: "Then why are you angry?" It was only ten in the morning and he had upset the muggles. A new record.

"Look, I'm going out for the day," Harry said firmly, after been screamed at by Petunia for what seemed like ages," and I'll be back tonight."

"You ungrateful twit," Vernon snarled.

The door slammed behind Harry, and he heard his uncle and aunt still shouting at him. It did not matter. There were much more important things to deal with now, and he was wasting time here at Privet Drive. Why everyone else didn't see how obvious it was, he wasn't sure.

**--**

Hours and hours of aimless wanderings later, Harry found himself at Privet Park, which had been established a few winters before. Its purpose was to provide a play area for little kids to swing, slide and otherwise amuse themselves, but Dudley and his gang had claimed it as their own. Today, it was no different.

Harry rolled his eyes at the sight of Piers Polkiss and Darian Rathrum engaging in what seemed to be a whiskey-drinking competition. Dudley was leaning against the monkey bars with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth menacingly.

"All right, Harry?" questioned a sharp voice.

Hesitantly, Harry turned toward Sarah, who smiled at him from her perch upon the wooden fence that encircled Privet Park. "All right," he said a little bitterly. "We're on a first name basis now, I see?"

"Well, that all depends on you," she told him indifferently, and took a drag off her blunt, her eyes lined in electric blue make-up, her pointed heels purple, her skirt almost nonexistent.

Despite himself, Harry propped himself beside her, taking care not to be too close. _'Desperate times,' _he thought. "All right yourself, _Sarah_?" he asked her, attempting to look very bored.

She grinned at him. "All right," she answered, cocking her eyebrow. "Suppose I wasn't very smart the other night."

"No, intelligence really wasn't with you."

"Worst hangover of my _life."_

"So, is that _all _you two do together? Get smashed to Hell?" Harry asked darkly.

"Partly," she shrugged. "Of course that isn't all."

"Maybe we'd better _stop_ there," Harry declared.

"You really don't like each other, do you?"

"'Don't like' is a very positive-sounding understatement. Dudley and I agree on one thing, and that one thing is loathing each other deeply."

She giggled. "How is Saint Brutus' Academy, anyway?" she asked. "Dudley's aunt says they cane you."

"_Christ, you've met Aunt Marge?"_

"Yeah. I came round for tea last year, but you were at the school. She was a lovely person, really. That was before me and Big D hooked up."

Harry almost choked. "Are you _serious?_ " He wasn't certain which bit was the most disturbing: tea with the Dursleys, Aunt Marge being called 'lovely' or solemnly referring to Dudley as 'Big D'. "Aunt Marge is the foulest creature known to man."

"Come off it!"

"No, I'm serious. As for Saint Brutus, it gets me away from here. And so I guess it's not half-bad." After all of these years of lying about it, Saint Brutus _was _beginning to sound like a pretty intriguing place.

"Guess not," Sarah responded, and then gazed over Harry's shoulder where Dudley was punching Piers repeatedly in the arm to the delight of Malcom and several other boys.

Harry watched and snorted. "I guess your boyfriend has pretty important matters to attend to. I'm sure he'll be with you when he has a free moment."

"_Sod off," _she smiled, and kicked Harry lightly. "You wanna hit, Harry?" she questioned, holding out the blunt.

"Yeah." _'Why not? There's nothing else to do around here.' _He took a drag and burst out coughing.

"You're pretty cool, Harry."

"Sure I am." His thoughts swam around him like a vortex. "I'm not all muscled up and I'm not on the wrestling team. Sorry to disappoint you."

"It's all right," she said," but—"

"Sarah! _Oi,"_ came Dudley's yell from across the playground. "Get _over _here!"

"Guess I have to go," she smiled.

"Guess you do," Harry replied tersely, wishing Hermione **was **here so she could throttle the girl for being so typical.

He watched disgustedly as the tiny girl intertwined herself into his cousin, her little mini skirt riding up over her black panties, Dudley's hand feeling her there.

Harry cursed at no one and went away.

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	3. Bigger, Small

**AN: **Thanks to those who reviewed, added to alerts, or noted this story's existence in any way!

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**THREE: **Bigger, Small

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"I'm so sorry, Duddlykins!" Aunt Petunia was saying at the breakfast table with something reminiscent of fear in her bright eyes. 

Harry snapped out of his momentary daydream and stared at his aunt, who was looking as though she might cry at any second. Dudley looked unaffected, however, and continued to eat cereal.

"Sorry for what?" grumbled Harry's cousin between bites; it was apparent he was coming down from yet another wild night at Privet Park.

"Your daddy and I got tickets for the theatre and we'll have to go out tonight—"

"Bloody office never gives out anything _cultured," _Vernon snorted from the kitchen, drinking coffee. "Never a sporting event, _no! The theatre. _What are we, pansies?"

Petunia focused on Dudley, which must have been difficult, because Vernon's voice was making the dish towel rack shake violently. "—and we won't be back until rather late, you see, and so—"

"Think I have it covered, Mum," Dudley replied coolly," I _am _nearly sixteen."

"Nearly? You've just turned fifteen," Harry put in, and was glared at by five eyes (Vernon was looking sideways at him).

"Anyhow," Dudley continued," think I can deal with you being gone." Harry could all ready see the plans forming in his head, however difficult that must have been for him.

Petunia nodded, and then she hopped up and grabbed her son in a very tight hug. "My little Dinkle Duddy is gwowing up _so fast!" _

"Mum!"

Harry nearly fell over, sniggering.

Vernon looked directly at him. "And you, boy! Don't think this gives you an excuse to rampage through the house like a disorderly nincompoop! _No, _boy, I have grand plans for you," he said a little crazily, and Harry stopped laughed and wondered what it was this time.

**--**

'**They locked me in my room,' **Harry thought bitterly, pounding his fist into his pillow. 'What is this, primary school? Jail? Hell. _I've been locked in my room.' _He had at least hoped that Dudley would go out and leave the house free for Harry to invade. Perhaps he could have even seen the news, but not now.

Dudley walked past Harry's room, apparently on the walk-around phone: "Yeah, that's what I thought, but she's bein' a right wench and she—women, _yeah_," he paused to laugh. "Yeah, she thinks I'm like, abandoning her or some shit like that. So she's—huh? Yeah. Yeah, man, I know. I know. Well, we'll go tag tomorrow night, all right? It's bullshit, but, whatever. She's coming round at seven or whatever. Yeah. Okay. Later, Piers."

Harry sank into the pillow in horror. _'Dudley's **not **going out? And Sarah's coming over? Just what I need, a pornographic night with Big D and the slag. Stupid Sarah.' _However, the excited feeling in his chest told him different. Hedwig hooted sadly as though to call him pathetic.

"Yeah!?" Harry barked. "You and everybody else!"

Dudley paused in front of the locked door; his looming shadow seeping in from underneath the doorjamb. "Don't be so weird," he declared almost in disgust, and Harry heard the floorboards creaking as he walked away.

Some record was put on with a man who kept rapping about "that stupid bitch" who liked to "put it in the mouth."

He shook his head. It was agonizing when even _Dudley _couldn't find the words to manage a proper threat.

**--**

**At about seven thirty, **Harry awoke with a start to the sound of voices.

"Took you long enough!"

"Mum kept interrogating me! She threatened to check my backpack, so I had to make up a story that I was at Karen's and I don't think she bought it, so I actually had to _go _to Karen's and have her cover for me and—"

"Whatever. Did you bring some?"

"Yes, I did, is that all I get for coming all this way?"

There was a momentary silence, and then the unzipping of what Harry gathered was Sarah's backpack. She sounded refreshingly sober. At least for the moment.

Dudley sounded discouraged. "That's hardly enough."

"It's all I could buy! My allowance is only five quid a week, you know!"

"Fuck it."

"What you mean _fuck it?_ Not like you gave me very much money to go with!"

"Shut your sqealin', let's fucking smoke it," Dudley declared.

Sarah's heels clacked closer to Harry's earshot, though still on the first floor. "Where's Saint Brutus?"

"Where's what?"

"Harry, your cousin, Harry!"

Dudley laughed vehemently. "Locked away in his beddy-room."

"He's _what?"_

"Yeah, Dad locked him away for the night. It's better that way."

"Let him out," Sarah said hotly.

"No! How you think we're going to do anything if he's down here, being a freak as always?"

"Let him out."

"No."

"Fine. Then I'll free him," Sarah declared, and from what Harry could tell, there was a mad dash for the staircase: Sarah squealed, something banged onto the rail, there was a loud "oof!", and a "get off!", and then suddenly, a clacking of Harry's lock, and the door swung open.

"Quickly! Quickly!" Sarah giggled mentally, and Harry could see Dudley coming up behind.

In Dudley's effort to slam the door shut, Harry squeezed out underneath his elbow.

"Damn it!" Dudley exclaimed, and made a fist.

"Wouldn't do that," Harry shot.

"Why? Not like you can do anything in front of _her!" _Dudley replied.

'_Right.' _"Well, you either!" Harry said.

Sarah looked confused. "Shut it, everyone. Come on, let's get blazed."

"Right," Dudley said, still looking as though he wanted to beat Harry's head in. "But if you act up, it's back in you go."

"THIS ISN'T THE ZOO!" Harry snarled.

He and Dudley both stared at each other in a way that actually suggested they _were _family, for they both had depressing memories of the zoo, if for different reasons. (Dudley's most definitely was about snakes; Harry's having to do with a lemon icepop, or child abuse in general.)

After this uncanny moment, the strange lot of teenagers headed back downstairs.

* * *


	4. Don't Do Anything At All

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Four: Don't Do Anything At All

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**Harry had only had three or four** rounds of the pot, after Sarah had convinced Dudley that it was only fair he join in as well. _Only three or four rounds! _And _somewhere, _in the back of his mind, he kept telling himself that Dudley Dursley was a stupid, bullying oaf—he kept reminding himself that he _hated _his cousin immensely! But at the moment, Dudley Dursley was one _hilarious _guy, and Harry, stretched out on the bench at Privet Park, was having a very hard time not rolling onto the grass, for he was laughing quite hard.

"You failed History, too?" Harry exclaimed, grinning, as though it were the greatest thing in the world, and he erupted anew into giggles.

Dudley grinned back and took a serious swig from his bottle of whiskey. "Completely and totally!"

Harry clapped joyously. "What did Vernon say?"

"Turned purple for like ten seconds and then called the school to like, complain or whatever!" Dudley burst out.

Reacting like it was a genius punch line, Harry slapped his knee. "Complain because you failed?"

"Yeah, isn't it great?"

Sarah was blinking at them hazily; she hadn't had enough yet to be on the same plane of existence as her boyfriend and his cousin. She was balanced on the swings watching, her legs spread apart.

'_What the Hell was my problem? Dudley is so awesome,' _Harry thought, snorting aloud. _'Oh wow, History? History!" _He kept laughing to himself.

Taking a drag off the blunt, Sarah smiled back at him, looking woozy.

"I uh—" stammered Harry, wanting to have something hilarious to say but not knowing exactly what. "I—I nearly failed Potions. Sometimes I don't mix that shit right…" He broke out laughing.

Dudley raised an eyebrow and took another drink, as though to reassure himself of what he'd just heard. "Potions? You have Potions? Ha ha, that's fucking funny! _Don't mix the shit right, _what, you can fail in being all magical or whatever the fuck you are?"

Harry nodded happily. "Everyone can fail!" he said pleasantly.

Sarah looked at the two of them like they were insane. "What, you mean Chemistry?" She blew out smoke and hacked.

"No! Potions, Potions!" Harry declared. "Professor Snape is a prick!"

"Professor Snape!" Dudley roared; Harry almost started crying, he was laughing so hard.

"Yeah, Professor Snape. He's such a--- I dunno, he's always taking points away because of me."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "What a prick," she repeated, as though she didn't know what else to add to the conversation.

"Hey, say something weird, like something magical!" Dudley commanded.

Harry's head was spinning, he tried to think. "What?"

"I dunno, anything!"

"What the Hell are you assholes talking about?" Sarah demanded.

"Shut up, Harry's gonna say something magical!" Dudley shouted.

Harry tried not to chuckle. "Er--- _Hogsmeade!"_

"Hog-fucking-what?" Dudley looked like he might have an attack from laughing.

"Hogsmeade!"

"What?" chirped Sarah.

Dudley was gripping the bottle of whiskey so hard he might've broken it, and was standing with one hand on his knee, as though he might topple over.

"Alohamora!" Harry screamed out phonetically.

"Whore mora, what?" Dudley asked, cracking up.

"Go to Hell, you aren't making sense," Sarah shot at them, and turned away.

"No, no, no. The best was when that _guy_ came and like, broke Dad's gun!" Dudley was shaking his head as though it were the best memory ever. He made a very threatening face: **"YAR A WIZARD, HORRY!" **he bellowed, pointing at his cousin.

Harry covered his face with his hands. "No I'm not!" he basically shrieked.

"YAR A WIZARD!"

"HA HA HA HA!"

"Shut the Hell _up!" _Sarah said sourly, and kicked gravel in their direction, which was hard because they were standing rather far apart.

"So, what, like, you get any pussy at that damn school?" Dudley asked, suddenly somber.

"Fuck _you," _Sarah said.

"What? Yeah, well, I mean, there's loads of pretty girls," Harry shrugged.

"Isn't it all-boys school?" Sarah asked, and was ignored.

Dudley's eyes were wide. "_Dick. _You don't call them _pretty girls. _They're hot sluts, come on Harry!" he sputtered.

"Shut up, Dudley," Sarah snapped, folding her arms. "You're such a bastard."

"Oh, you just got shot down," Harry sniggered, but something about the mood instantly changed.

Dudley finished off the bottle of whiskey and looked slightly terrifying.

Harry, however, couldn't stop laughing.

"You bitch," Dudley said, looking at his girlfriend lazily. "You cheap, stupid cow, I shouldn't keep you around."

"Stop it!" she cried out. Harry felt like he should be stopping his cousin's insults, but everything seemed very far away, the voices were loud but very, very small, like a balloon drifting languidly into the sunset. _'Or the flying Ford Anglia, I'll have to tell Dudley about that later, that's funny, too,' _thought Harry unsteadily.

A loud crash erupted as Dudley dropped the empty bottle onto the pavement—tiny shards caught the street light's drone momentarily and then fell to earth. Harry sobered up slightly; he wondered why everyone was suddenly being so real.

Sarah was hiding her face in her hands, not really scared, just not ready to be present.

"I ought to—" Dudley looked inspired, and even though his inspiration seemed nasty, it was very formidable, given his vast size. "I ought to—"

"Get out with it! Ought to what?" Sarah screamed, like the world was ending.

There was a long pause.

"Fuck," Dudley said," I have to piss. I'll be back." With that, he staggered off to the park bathrooms; he _must _have been drunk, he never walked all that way.

Harry broke out laughing again, and looked over to Sarah, but she was silent. "Hey," he said, and stood up unevenly, coming across the path and sitting in the swing beside her.

"I thought you were different," she said.

"I _am_ different," he replied, "I'm Harry Potter." But in this world, it didn't have quite the same effect.

"Hit, Harry?" she asked, almost tearfully.

"It's got to be nearly gone," he announced. "Naw, I don't think so. I don't think so."

She shrugged. "My head hurts. Why were you two so god-damned happy all of a sudden?"

"What do you mean?" Harry kicked a stone, swinging slowly. "We weren't happy, I mean, but… you have to admit some of that was hilarious. Failing History."

Sarah smiled like she almost knew what he meant. "Yeah," she said sadly.

"He always talk like that to you?"

"What about failing, not really—"

"Naw, like calling you a bitch and a cow," Harry sniggered," you're not a cow. You might be a slut but you aren't a cow."

"Am I a hot slut, though?"

Harry dragged his feet on the ground to quit swinging. "I dunno," he shrugged. "You didn't really answer…"

"Answer what?"

"I dunno. My question, or whatever." He chortled. "So, what? Am I cutting into your alone time? You guys fuck on the slide, or something?"

"_No_," she giggled. "I'm not _that _much of a slut."

Harry watched her.

"Okay, okay!" she exclaimed. "In the gazebo!"

"Oh! So you're a gazebo slut!" Harry decreed. "I used to _sit _in there—I never will again! How _old _are you, anyway?"

"Fourteen," she said.

"_Fourteen!" _Harry exclaimed. "God."

Sarah eyed him. "You're a virgin, aren't you?"

"No," he lied quickly. "What's the big deal with that, anyway? Would it be different if I said yes? Why's it such a big deal to you, especially since you're a gazebo slut?"

"Seems like you are," she voiced indifferently.

"That's _great."_

At that second, Sarah leaned across the chains of her swing and kissed Harry with an open mouth, her tongue sliding in between his lip and his bottom teeth, curling upward, and Harry was motionless—he had a fleeting thought about how long it took to "take a piss", but then he leaned in just a bit further. Sarah moved her hand to his trousers; Sarah had a tongue ring. _'Some stupid bitch who liked to put it in the mouth.' _There was something very desperate and wrong about all of it, but oh, flawed things are always very perfect.

Though he certainly could have done more, and he certainly wouldn't have minded the gazebo, Harry told himself (and, obviously, his reasoning would change the next day) that Dudley was too funny of a guy for this, and so he stood up abruptly. "Right," he said," yeah, I'd better get back, so, you know."

Sarah licked her lips and smiled. With perfect timing, Dudley was seen tripping toward them. "G'night then, Harry."

"Yeah, just tell Big D to lock me in when he gets home," Harry told her, not fully appreciating the strangeness of this statement as he walked back to Number Four. It had been fun. Awkward, yeah, but fun… Except not fun in an enjoyable sense.

Kind of like taking a mouthful of something that looked very sweet, only to find out what a bitter aftertaste it had at the end.

* * *


	5. Remember What the Dormouse Said

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Chapter Five: Remember What the Dormouse Said

* * *

Harry didn't dream of Cedric that night, nor did he dream of Voldemort. He had wild nightmares: there were short skirts, smooth lips, swings, and a boy who kept laughing so gratingly that it made Harry worry, he didn't want to wake up, and by God, he didn't want that boy to _ever _stop laughing. He did wake up though, groggily, almost every hour. At first, it was to the sound of retching in the bathroom through the wall. Then, it was to the unlocking of the front door, his aunt and uncle arriving after midnight. But then it was because he was sweating so profusely.

And finally, he awoke for good, but this was because Aunt Petunia was pounding on the wall.

"_Wake up, you lazy, ungrateful thing! It's after noon! Wake **up**!"_

Harry sat up instantly, groping for his glasses. "What!"

"Honestly, you make me _sick, _I can't believe you, door open and all, what do you think we _are, a charity? If you keep it up—"_

"What?" Harry asked again, bleary-eyed. His head was pounding.

Petunia snorted. "Don't pretend you didn't do it! Your bedroom door was _open. Open! _How dare you use magic to sneak out! How dare you!" She was shrieking and Harry had the urge to put a pillow over her mouth.

"My room was unlocked?" he repeated dull-wittedly.

She nodded furiously.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I dunno why, ask Dudley."

"_Dudley!" _screamed Aunt Petunia. "Dudley? _How dare you blame your short-comings on my son! How could he have let you out?"_

"Easy, really," Harry said rudely. "He could've opened the door, unless he's too stupid for that, too, hey, maybe you're right."

This seemed to make Petunia speechless, because she pursed her lips and shook her head angrily before exiting the room. _Anything to shut her up.'_

He heard her in the next room over: "Diddums, are you feeling okay? It's late, sweetie, are you sure I can't get you anything?"

Harry let out his breath very slowly, still trying to gather himself. _Last night. Last night, something happened. Privet Park, Sarah. _The memories of his nightmares swirled around him viciously; he tried quickly to separate reality from dream.

He tried to remember. It'd been funny, that he recalled, Dudley had been a source of great amusement, though he couldn't place why. And Sarah—there was something about her he should have been able to recall.

Harry sat up a little straighter. He'd _kissed _Sarah. His chest throbbed. Or rather, Sarah had kissed _him. _Sarah had put her tongue in his mouth. She'd said she liked to fuck Big D at the park. She'd said she was fourteen.

_Fourteen. _Harry was beginning to get a very bad feeling in his stomach. _Fourteen, just Ginny Weasley's age and… I wouldn't have let Ginny be spoken to like that. And I—_

He recalled just then that he'd left Sarah at the park alone with Dudley at a very inopportune moment, Dudley had been pretty hammered, really pissed off. But last night, it had seemed fine. He'd just been focused on getting the Hell away. He didn't want Dudley to think he was trying to steal his girlfriend.

Suddenly, Harry was furious. He stood up and kicked the dresser swiftly. _Fourteen! _he kept thinking. _I left her there; **I left her there! **I should've helped… Why didn't I think?_

Every heroic deed he'd done seemed like it didn't matter now. And the scary thing was, he wasn't sure how much he really cared.

He headed out the room, the sweltering summer heat languid, disgusting. Opening the bathroom door, he made a face. The fan was going, the window was open, and still the room smelled faintly of whiskey and puke. Mouthwash was out on the counter. _Nice cover-up_, Harry thought darkly and splashed water over his face, trying to collect his thoughts. This was a side of himself he didn't usually entertain.

Growing more frustrated than anything, he grabbed the door handle, just as the door swung open. Harry found himself staring face to face with Big D himself, who looked far shittier than Harry felt.

"Morning, Dudley," said Harry derisively.

His blond hair unkempt, Dudley looked his cousin over like he was something rank, but said nothing.

"Say, last night, weren't you supposed to lock me in?" Harry asked casually.

"Huh?"

"Yeah, Sarah was going to tell you to lock me in, and since you didn't, Aunt Petunia thinks I got out on my own!" Harry snarled.

Dudley scratched his shoulder, totally unconcerned. "I don't take orders from hoes," he said simply," now get the fuck out of my way."

But Harry had no time to get out the way, because Dudley shoved him out of the room and slammed the door. All this did, ultimately, was making Harry angrier, but what could he do about it? Pound on the door and tell Dudley that Sarah wasn't a hoe? Harry sniggered to himself. _Right. _

Aunt Petunia was standing against the doorjamb of Dudley's room. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing—"

"You are a liar, and—"

"Why would I do _anything _to him?" Harry barked. "I didn't do _anything." _He reeled down the stairway, banging the banister in anguish as he went.

"**BOY!**" Uncle Vernon yelled. "Your aunt says you snuck out—where in the dickens do you get the _gall, _boy?"

"Uncle Vernon, the theatre's put you in a very bad mood," Harry said in a snotty tone," so maybe you should rest awhile."

"Don't tell _me _what _I _need to do!" the big man roared, spraying spit out of his mouth.

"Don't worry, I'm leaving," Harry announced, heading out the door.

Vernon was bantering angrily to himself: _"What kind of teenage boy leaves the house without eating breakfast? These stupid, anorexic pansies, I tell you!"_

Harry slammed the screen door behind him and headed off to Privet Park, wanting to make this all right, wanting to re-live the entire situation, but this time as The Boy Who Lived, and not as the boy who'd cocked up.

--

Harry searched the slides, benches and yes, the gazebo, but he couldn't spot Sarah anywhere. Finally, near the edge of the sandbox, he spotted long black hair. She was sitting on the wooden encasing around the sand, her pink skirt riding up her ass, wearing purple fishnet tights. He strode toward her, making sure to keep an eye out just in case Dudley pulled himself together enough to leave the house.

He stopped short when he noticed that she was struggling to open a pack of cigarettes. She kept dropping them into the grass and whimpering.

"Hey," he said softly, trying to be as friendly as possible, as _Harry Potter _as possible.

She jumped a bit and threw a glance over her shoulder. "Hi Harry," she said.

Harry looked at her painstakingly. "Jesus Christ," he whispered.

Sarah's lip was split open, her face bruised, and her makeup and hair were disheveled. "Thanks a lot, Saint Brutus, I know I look like shit, you don't have to rub it in, okay?" she snapped, dropping the cigarettes once again.

He reached down and picked them up, removed one and handed it to her. She took it but didn't light it.

"What—what happened?" Harry wanted to know, his innocence like a shining medal; these sorts of things didn't go on in his nice little world.

Sarah let out a biting laugh. "What do you _think, _Harry? He was drunk, that's what happened. I'm a bitch when I'm on pot, that's what happened!"

"So he hit you?" Harry asked casually.

She looked at him like he was a sad case. "Naw, my _mom _hit me."

"What!?"

"_Yeah, _he hit me, what do you think?" she said nonchalantly.

"Well…" Harry looked down for a second, and then kicked at the grass. "Well, that pisses me off! Why do you let him hang round you? He's a bully! A _bastard! _He doesn't need to be drunk to hit me! He doesn't need to be drunk to beat little kids up, don't you get it?"

"He only hit me two or three times!" she exclaimed. "That's all." She exhaled and crossed her legs.

"That's _all_? How can you say that? How can you act like it's no big deal?" Harry declared hotly. "You mentioned your mom—what does she say?"

"Who gives a flying fuck what she thinks?" Sarah asked. "She doesn't like him. She doesn't like me."

"I'm sure that's not—"

"Harry, she thinks I'm a psycho. She's always on my back, _let me smell your breath, let me do this, who were you hanging out with, this that._"

Harry felt pained. "She's just being a _mom."_

"_Yeah. _Whatever that means."

_Definitely, _Harry thought. "Well, why would **you** let him do that?"

"Derno," she said. "Why would you?" She smiled wickedly.

It was exactly what he was afraid of, and suddenly, he responded in a very different way than he meant to:

"It's not my duty to protect everyone, you know," he stated angrily," and you're not my responsibility, okay? Not _everyone _is my responsibility!"

"Of course not," she voiced plainly. "And I guess I wouldn't've stayed around if I were you, either."

Harry couldn't believe her. _Talk about gall._

"Don't blame you at all," she went on, twirling her cigarette,"just had to state the facts. Anyway, you can't stop everything. And you can't save everyone. You're stupid if you think that." She finally lit her cigarette and inhaled deeply. She blew out smoke and crossed one leg over the other. "He made it up to me afterward, so I'm not that upset, or whatever."

"Wait. _He _made it up to you, or _you _made it up to him? Which is it, because I'm sure he has a different idea of who was making what up!?" Harry snapped.

Sarah blew out smoke lightly. "Sex is sex, Harry. You want details, or something?"

"Go to Hell," Harry barked, making a face. "I just don't get why you would stand for it!"

"You don't know what you're talking about," she said. "You don't understand him, obviously."

"What do you mean!? Of course I know what I'm talking about. What's there to understand? He _beat _you up, he's an asshole! He's my cousin! I know!" Harry almost shouted.

A few mothers gathered around the slides turned around to stare sadly at him.

Sarah sighed. "Harry, you really tear my heart out." She inhaled again. "You're so _sensitive."_

Harry snorted. "Yeah, just the _opposite _of your type, right? Like 'em big and awful, right? Beat you up now and then?"

Sarah said nothing.

"Yeah but then why'd you go and kiss me?" Harry shouted.

"Because you looked like you needed it," Sarah shrugged. "Shit, you really don't know anything about yourself, do you? First you're all badass and now you're some sorta saint, but like I said, you can't help everyone. Stop talking like such a goddamn hero." She tugged at her skirt and looked angry. "Or if you're gonna be a hero, don't act like you hate it so much."

Harry felt as though she had just slapped him in the face. Gone right into his insides, found the contents to be boring, and just slapped him. How could someone he'd only known for less than a week be so intuitive? She'd hit his shortcomings right on the head.

"I don't have to stand for this," Harry snapped viciously. "Let Dudley beat you up, I don't care. Just _don't act like you know what I'm thinking. You know nothing about me, okay?"_

"Whatever," she said crossly.

Furious, Harry shoved his hands into his pockets and strode to the edge of the play yard, wanting instantly to disconnect himself from everyone. He tried to reason with himself; tell himself that this was the muggle world, and it was horrible right now because he didn't fit in, but somehow he knew it was deeper than that. He couldn't just separate himself into two places, couldn't claim two personalities and use the nice one when he was in easy situations. Life wasn't like that.

It was at this moment that Harry claimed the Slytherin part of himself, the side of himself that might have formed subconsciously while being raised with Dudley, might have been picked up around Draco Malfoy, _might've. _Or maybe it was just a side of Harry that had been there all along.

He scowled and watched the scene: mothers watching their toddlers play in the sand, little kids shrieking—so daring, Sarah puffing out smoke, her wiry legs spread.

Not long after, Harry's cousin Dudley came slogging through the playground, looking far more put together than Harry ever could, blond hair gelled to perfection, pure white shirt, new shoes. The mothers seemed to keep a closer eye on their children at once, pulled their daughters to them protectively; Dudley noticed and shone. A cigarette lolled out of his mouth lazily.

"All ready up and going, I see," the massive boy said nastily to Harry, staring at him through his cold blue eyes.

"You as well," Harry said plainly. "You know, your mum and dad might not be so keen on you if they got wind of what you do."

"If you tell them about the liquor, I'll pound your face—"

"Not _talking _about the liquor, Duddlykins," Harry declared passively. "It's not nice to hit girls, didn't Uncle Vernon teach you anything?"

Malice shone in Dudley's eyes and he stepped forward. Harry's heartbeat went quicker, but he knew Dudley wouldn't do anything to him, no matter how much he longed to.

"What, going to beat me up, too?"

Dudley's face contorted into a leer; he drew out his cigarette for a moment and spat onto the gravel. Then he put one hand down to his groin and seized it mockingly.

"Suck it, Potter," he said, and pushed past Harry once again.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle, if only because of the heat which might have been driving him insane. He still detested his cousin, yes, of course, but now there was something else he couldn't quite place, some remnant of the previous night, a sort of fascination, maybe.

Dudley trudged heavily to the sandbox and slowly sat down beside Sarah, her head only just reaching his shoulder. Wordlessly, Big D touched what Harry supposed was her lip, they exchanged words briefly, and Sarah crawled into his lap.

Harry couldn't figure out why everything was all right to them. _Nothing _was all right.

He was sick of Privet Drive, but what was frightening was the fact that now he was beginning to understand it. Beginning to _want _to feel how it was to fit in here. Taste it. Not quite _suck it_, but taste the glory.

Baffled, Harry opted to go back to Number 4, no matter how much he dreaded the reactions he'd provoke.

And that evening, Harry would face a dementor for Dudley because of that strange connection that had occurred the previous night. And Harry would be thrown back into the mix, where Hermione would look him over again and again, ask what was wrong, and Ron would still know nothing about kissing girls. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, like the park mothers, would only stare sadly, and the attitudes of Professor Umbridge and Cornelius Fudge would be no different than Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.

Yeah, and a few months later, when Cho Chang would make lip-contact with Harry, he'd have to lie and say it was his first, and Hell knew it wouldn't be his best.

And when Harry would finally discover what an arrogant bastard his father was, he wouldn't be entirely surprised.

But for now, all Harry knew was he couldn't watch Dudley and Sarah for very long without feeling jealous. Of what, he wasn't sure: parents, sex, nonchalance, poise, power.

Only one thing was for certain:

There was only one world, he didn't figure into it, and he couldn't afford to pretend.

His cousin and the little dishrag held hands as they walked slowly to the park bathrooms, the summer breeze rustling the grass. Harry couldn't say he wasn't a part of this place anymore.

* * *

_Finish_

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**Author's Note: **It's just a short glimpse into life at Privet Drive. I'd like to do more with the characters, but this little tale is over. For me, writing Sarah was interesting because (now allow me to go all analytical on everyone) we all know her in some way or another. Maybe she's us, or maybe we've dated her, maybe we hate her, maybe she's our best friend, maybe she's all of that. But whatever the case may be, she is everywhere in a sense, except in different ways. Listening to music while writing lately (as music totally inspired this fic), I came across a Tori Amos song I'd forgotten for awhile. It's called "Siren", and one of the lines is _she's almost brave/almost pregnant/ almost (ya know?) in love/ _vanilla. I just thought it really flowed with Sarah; that wacky, hyper persona, not caring but being involved in something so much deeper than she realized-- or was she?

I also loved how JK Rowling described Dudley's transformation in OotP. It's one of the best developments I think she's made in the series, a totally believable way for Dudley to grow up. And Harry, such the little angstbag. I think they're all a part of the teen spirit, to quote Kurdt Cobain, because we all (as teenagers) had the side that just wanted to be silly, the side that wanted to take everything seriously, and the side that really wanted to be _nasty_.

If you'd like to see some fanart for this story, I've posted a sketch of mine on my deviant account, which can be found in my profile. There will be more up soon. Also, I'm working on a Dudley POV thing, which will shed more light on he and Sarah's relationship-- or darkness, if you will.

I really hope you enjoyed the fic-- please review. And _remember what the dormouse said/ you've got to feed your head.

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